If I had to come up with a motif to describe myself, the most conspicuous one would be 'incompleteness'. And I don't mean it in any congratulatory sense whatsoever. I was 'gung-ho' when I started this blog, determined to be regular, verbose and prolific. That sure went down the drain.
I haven't completed a book cover to cover for a long time. I seem to live in the past. The worse thing is that I seem to enjoy it. I quit reading 'India after Gandhi' just before the economic liberalizations set in. The second stage of my thesis is done with and I feel a sense of complacency has set in. I fear incompleteness but I'm wondering if I can help it.
I see incompleteness in my thoughts, my opinions, my expressions and also my ambitions. I reciprocate to people incompletely. Even my love is incomplete. So is my hate.
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